Frisky Friday Flash Fiction

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Happy Friday! How are you? I’m okay (thanks for asking)!

Change is a big word for me right now. I’m not just meaning the dreaded switch to daylight savings time. For me and my daughter, we’ll be getting used to being on our own for a while. I’ve spent the week packing boxes and trying to help my hubby as much as possible. Frankly, I’ve been doing a lot of procrastination, not wanting to face the truth of the matter. But it’s happening, and I can’t stop it. We’ll just need to hold our chins high (and do a lot of FaceTime calls) until we’re whole again.

Have you preordered your copy of my upcoming book: Fighting for the Best? It’s the third book in the TKO Love Trilogy. If you’re a fan of MMA, second chances, and male-male romance, be sure to pick it up!

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He needs to be the best version of himself possible…

But Javier Hernández isn’t sure what is his best. 

He’s only ever known his dark side. A convict father and a gang remind Javier daily. Always in trouble with the law, society defined Javier as a no-good man who would end up in jail or dead. Until a chance run-in opens the door to change.

Harper Winslow understands what it means to give his best. The former Marine served his country proudly. Losing his leg ended his career, but it didn’t end his recklessness. The man has a history with random men, but he hungers to find a special someone who would calm his fears and hold him on those long nights when terror set in.

Two men with one goal—to be a better man.

But can love overcome doubt and fear?


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Part Four


Calvin Reeves

Connie was finishing an autopsy when I arrived. Wright’s body, the customary stitches holding him together, was still on the table. She looked up from a clipboard when I walked through the door.

“Detective, you didn’t have to come down. We could have spoken over the phone.”

“Not a problem. I was in the area,” I lied. “What did you want to tell me?”

She lowered the pad of paper. “You saw my note about the succinylcholine?”

“The Quelicin? Yeah, I did.”

The pretty redhead nodded and stepped closer to the table. “As I mentioned, our victim had Rohypnol and GHB in his system. He was also intoxicated. Injecting him with a paralytic seems like overkill to me.”

“Agreed.” I stared down at the body. “Anything else stick out to you?”

Connie smiled and pointed to the left side of his neck. “Needle mark.”

Anyone else might have missed the tiny prick, but not her.

“The killer plied Wright with alcohol laced with drugs.” I said as I studied the needle mark. It wasn’t on the side, as one would expect. Instead, the injection site was more to the rear. “The perp came from behind. Most likely, after Wright passed out.”

Connie added, “The killer might not have wanted to physically restrain his victim.”

The murder was no longer one man overpowering another. Anyone—male or female—could have committed the crime. I suspected the perpetrator may have been a smaller man. He could have been short in stature. Maybe even suffered from an inferiority complex.

I checked the body for any ligature marks and found none. Just like with the Abernathy case. I would have wagered any amount of money that he was injected with Quelicin too. “Connie, can you access old files on your computer?”

“Depends on the age. Anything older than…say…six months will require a requisition order.”

“Two months ago. We had a similar case. A man named A.J.—”

“Abernathy!” Her eyebrows lifted, and she hurried over to her desk. “You found him in the Hollywood Hills.” Connie’s fingers flew across the keyboard. Seconds later, she said, “The same drugs were in his system—Rohypnol, GHB, and succinylcholine. He was also intoxicated.”

“And any record of the injection site?”

She grinned. “Detective, you know I keep thorough notes.” A few keystrokes and then she quirked her finger, gesturing me to come closer. 

Displayed on the screen were autopsy photos of Abernathy. She clicked on one, and I glimpsed a small needle mark on his neck. 

“The same placement, Detective. Behind the jugular.” She glanced at me. “If the same person committed both crimes, your perpetrator is fond of an angular injection. Perhaps the killer is an expert skilled at—”

“No, Connie. Our suspect is someone who may have done this a lot.” Pivoting on my heel, I said over my shoulder, “Do me a favor and requisition old case files. Go back at least a year. I want to know if we’ve had similar murders in the area.”

“You got it, Detective.”

As I headed to the elevator, I tried to clear my thoughts. A lack of sleep, however, made that difficult. It had been a long time since I we had a serial killer in town. The idea of another one chilled me to the core. 

When the doors parted, I glimpsed an attractive brunette. She could have been a student since the forensics labs shared a campus with the university. The woman smiled in my direction as I depressed the button. 

No time for pleasure, I reminded myself.

I had a lot of work to do. Getting mixed up in a relationship—or even just a one-night stand—could derail my thinking.

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That’s it for this week! Have a great weekend.

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